Nicneven of Dunvagen

          Nicneven of Dunvegan

Suzanne Marsh

Gillian Davidson stood high on the crag looking out over the field of heather. Her red hair blowing in the wind, her green eyes, watching, waiting for what? Gillian had flown to Edinburgh, Scotland; rented a Mini Cooper. She then drove to Dunvegan, at her mother’s behest. Gillian was an investigative reporter back in America. She knew there was a story that was worth writing about the Nicneven of Dunvegan since her mom had told her about her ancestor. Something had drawn Gillian to this particular crag, but what...she had no idea. She thought of her Mother, the tears she shed when Gillian left for Scotland. She wondered what her Mother was so upset about; she was going to clear Lady Sarah Davidson of any wrong doing. Gillian was determined to discover the secrets of Dunvegan.

Dunvegan Village, located on the Isle of Skye, the seat of the MacLeod Clan. That impressed Gillian; the first question was why did Lady Sarah Davidson go to Dunvegan. Gillian decided to begin with at the small library in the village. It seemed however the more questions she had the less answers she had. The wind began to pick up as she headed back to the bed and breakfast she was staying at. Dunvegan House. She asked questions about Lady Sarah Davidson; no one would speak to her about what happened here and why Lady Sarah was strangled then burned at the stake. It made no sense to Gillian.

Late one afternoon while walking around she came to a small curio shop. She stepped inside and there was a small locket with a picture painted inside, it was charming. She opened the locket to see a picture or herself. She purchased the locket from the curio shop owner and began her trek back to the Dunvegan House. Here, she thought was just a very small piece of the puzzle she was attempting to put together. Could that portrait have been Lady Sarah Davidson? That was too strange to be true.

Gillian went back into the curio shop and spoke to the owner:

“What can you tell me about this locket? Where did you acquire this piece?”

“I purchased it three years ago from an elderly woman. I believe her name was Sarah Whiting.”

“I see. Thank you.”

She began to leave the curio shop; snapped her fingers then turned around.

“Do you have an address for this Sarah Whiting?”

The owner looked at her quizzically:

“Yes just a moment while I get it.”

She turned back to face Gillian:

“There must be some mistake, there is no such road here in Dunvegan.”

“What? There must be if the woman gave you that road as her address.”

“Lassie I have lived in Dunvegan all my life trust me there is no such road.”

“Thank you sir.”

Gillian left the curio shop; she decided it was time to acquire more knowledge about Lady Sarah Davidson and somehow that old crone that sold that locket had the answer. Crone, that sounded as if it belonged to another time and place; perhaps so did Sarah Whiting.

Gillian hiked back to the Dunvegan House. She thought about taking a quick nap then she would go to the closest pub and have dinner. Gillian over slept, darkness was upon the wee town of Dunvagen. Gillian heard some type of strange sound. She dressed quickly, pulling on her jeans and a shirt. The sound seemed to be coming closer now, beckoning her. She followed the sound until she found her self climbing up Crag Na Dunvagen. The sound continued drawing her closer and closer. She watched in awe as a veritable old crone became a beautiful woman as she called out for Lucifer to come. Gillian’s eyes widened as she looked at a true witch’s coven. She watched the dancers working themselves into a frenzy. She began to leave when the beautiful woman walked toward her; it was like peering into a mirror. The old crone who became the beautiful woman was Lady Sarah Davidson. She glided toward Gillian her hand extended in greeting:

“Gillian, I know why you have come here to Dunvegan, it is I that ye seek. I am Lady Sarah

Davidson; Sarah Whiting is a name I use when I go into Dunvegan. You lass have been

asking questions. I will give you the answers. Sit down over there on the rock. I

fell in love with the mayor of Dunvegan Charles MacTavish. Och he was a brawny lad.

The town justice found out. Charles was given a choice me or his Lordship the Mayor.

Charles chose being his Lordship the Mayor. I began to explore the realm of black magic.

Charles saw me one afternoon returning from Crag Na Dunvagen with herbs and spices.

He misinterpreted what he saw. He went to the judge and told him what he had seen.

I was hauled into court. I was convicted of witchcraft. Aye, but twas all I was doin was

makin a mix of herbs for Jenny me sister. I was sent to Aberdeen Tollbooth Jail. There

the jailer put Scold’s Bridle, it was used to silence nags and women suspected of witch-

craft. Och it was a terrible thing, it was a muzzle that secured over me head and a padlock went into me mouth and over me tongue. Then I was tortured into confessin that I was indeed a

witch. Once the confession was gotten, I was returned to Dunvegan to be burned at the stake.

I was strangled first, then my body was burned. I am not evil Gillian however I am a

witch. I return to Dunvegan to blight the town. That dark could you saw earlier in the day

that was me. Dunvegan is going to pay for what they did. I want you to leave before I

cast me spell upon this place of horror.”

Gillian was not sure this was not a dream but as the stone cold hand stroked her cheek, she

knew it was not a dream. Gillian knew she had to leave Scotland and Dunvegan immediately. She agreed to what Lady Sarah had asked of her.

Gillian’s plane landed in the United States several days later. Her Mother stood at the gate waiting to see her daughter.

“Gillian, did you find a good story to write about in Dunvegan.”

Gillian, gave her Mother a candid look:

“Mom, I have my story I brought something back for you from Scotland.”

She handed her Mother the locket. Her Mother opened it, the face was Gillian’s the portrait was not Gillian.

“Mom, that is Lady Sarah Davidson. I thought you might like to have it. I think I can clear

her name with the evidence I gather.”

“Gillian, thank you.”